


World's Finest: Company Picnic

by WingFeathers



Series: World's Finest: The Missing Issues [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Justice League of America (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Baseball, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Hal Jordan is an Asshole, Humor, Identity Porn Without the Porn, Identity Reveal, M/M, Mentioned Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen - Freeform, Mentioned Hal Jordan/Carol Ferris, Minor Barry Allen/Iris West, Minor Dick Grayson & Wally West, Office Party, POV Bruce Wayne, Past Bruce Wayne & Harvey Dent, Secret Identity, Silver Age, Trinity (DCU), Trust Issues, Workplace Relationship, and a little angst, because it's bruce, but Hal and Barry have an ambiguous relationship, but so is Bruce, ish, or Past Bruce Wayne/Harvey Dent, take your pick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingFeathers/pseuds/WingFeathers
Summary: Inspired by Dick's idea, Clark organizes an out-of-uniform relaxed get-together for the League, and he and Diana have to convince Bruce to come as himself and let the League in on his secret identity.But when Bruce gives in and comes in his street clothes, nothing goes as planned.  No one is surprised when Batman doesn't show up for barbecue and baseball, but theyaresurprised when Clark brings his boyfriend, billionaire Bruce Wayne, and Bruce's ward.And Hal?  He's not just surprised.  He'spissed.





	World's Finest: Company Picnic

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry for the long delay in updates! Back to school time is intense time. I should be able to get back to weekly updates after this. Also Dick has a pretty small role in this, sorry! I'll feature him heavily next time to balance it out.

 

Clark’s fingers knit as he placed his hands on the table in front of him and smiled in Bruce’s direction. “You sure you don’t want to share the idea, Batman?”

The warmth from Clark’s affection was directly offset by the chill of reality: the League couldn’t sense anything between them, or his identity would be blown. Superman and Batman had to remain strictly professional, especially now that Clark Kent’s relationship with Bruce Wayne was—thanks to Clark’s neediness—public and verified news.

Bruce scowled back. “I’m positive.”

Clark turned to Diana now, and she nodded back in affirmation and said, “Go on, Kal.”

“All right. Well. The three of us were thinking,” he said, “that it might be nice to get together for a more… informal gathering. Food, a ball game, something to just get to know one another a little better.”

Barry and Hal exchanged a glance, and then Hal leaned forward, pointing at Bruce.

“ _He_ agreed to this?”

“I did,” Bruce growled.

“It was actually his—”

“It was not.”

Clark furrowed his brow. “Well, it was—”

“It was _Robin_ ’s idea,” Bruce clarified. He cleared his throat. “But yes, I think it has its merits.”

Barry brightened at the mention of Robin. “Is he coming? Can I bring Kid Flash, then? He’s dying to meet the rest of you.”

Bruce nodded.

“Absolutely, sidekicks are welcome. Anyone else…?”

Bruce eyed Diana, who suddenly forgot how to make eye contact. For all her candor, she sure was reluctant to bring up her sister around anyone other than him and Clark.

Arthur looked Clark right in the eye and shook his head. “Garth has… exams, you could call them.”

Barry sighed. “Should I not, then?”

“Definitely bring him,” said Clark. “Robin’ll come, so he’ll have company. Right, Batman?”

Bruce gave a short nod.

Dinah bit her nail and rolled her eyes back in thought. “When is this?” she asked.

“This weekend?” Clark asked, looking around.

“Can’t do this Friday,” said Dinah.

“Why not? Hot date?” Barry teased.

“Matter of fact, yes,” Dinah snapped.

Barry’s face turned red below his mask, but Hal leaned an elbow on the table, covering for Barry’s awkwardness. “Tell us _everything_ ,” he said. “Is this new? What’s he like?”

“Who says it’s a _he_?”

Hal shrugged. “Barry said he saw you on the news with Oliver Queen. Was he wrong?”

Dinah flushed now. “No,” she admitted. “But it’s nothing. It’s casual.”

“Sure, sure,” said Hal. “Man. I just can’t believe _two_ Leaguers are dating spoiled millionaires.”

Barry coughed something suspiciously like _Carol Ferris_ , and then shouted “Ow!” while glaring at Hal.

“Carol’s not _spoiled_. She _actually_ works. Unlike Queen or Wayne, from what I’ve heard.”

“Bruce may be a little… uh… out of touch,” Clark acknowledged. Bruce ground his teeth, knowing he couldn’t contradict the public persona he’d crafted for himself. “But he puts a lot back into Gotham. He’s a good person.”

Barry grimaced. “No offense, Supes, but… that’s what people say about Lex Luthor.”

Clark’s face contorted. “Bruce is _nothing_ like that pompous sociopathic—”

Diana took Clark’s hand. “His love for you is a testament to his character,” she said, looking over with a sly little smile.

Bruce cleared his throat and pushed his chair back. “If all our _business_ is finished, I move to dismiss.”

“Seconded,” said Arthur.

“All in favor?” Bruce asked. J’onn, Clark, and Dinah shot their hands in the air, and Bruce didn’t wait for the other three. “Dismissed.”

“We never set a day,” Barry objected.

“Labor Day,” Clark declared. “This weekend. Any conflicts?”

“I have a party Monday,” Hal said.

“Your party’s Sunday,” Barry corrected. “ _Mine_ ’s Monday.”

“What he said,” Hal said.

“Then we’ll do Saturday,” said Clark.

“Weekends aren’t good for me,” Bruce noted.

“We’ll wrap before nightfall. Let’s say… four to seven? We’ll set up something here in Happy Harbor, away from anyone who knows us, so we can just relax. Street clothes. Does that work, Batman?”

Bruce shrugged.

“Diana? Everyone else?”

“Works for me,” Diana chimed in.

“Good,” said Bruce. “So we’re _actually_ done now.”

“See you all then!” said Clark, standing himself and grinning cheerfully. Bruce turned and crossed to the computer, starting an update that he’d already implemented on the Batcave Computer. It was a small way of tricking himself into thinking he’d actually been allowed to leave instead of being held hostage by Diana’s insistence on a debrief meeting after the debrief meeting.

He’d called it inefficient. She’d called it _an important way to make sure we’re on the same page_.

Clark had agreed with her. Of course.

The glare in the screen was helpful for once, as Bruce watched his teammates take their leave. Arthur took his usual exit out to a inlet in the cave that led directly into the Atlantic harbor outside. J’onn vanished. Dinah and Hal, one by one, dematerialized in the teleportation device.

Barry was near the door out, but then he backpedalled to Clark.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low but fast, “I didn’t mean anything—about Bruce and—I know you wouldn’t date anyone like Lex Luthor—I’m sorry if I offended you—I just meant—”

“We’re good,” Clark said, clapping a hand on Barry’s shoulder. “Apology accepted.”

“Phew,” Barry sighed. “Okay. I… you’re sure? We’re good?”

“Yep.”

“I know Hal can be kind of a…”

“A jerk?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. He didn’t mean offense either. You know that, right?”

“Barry, don’t worry,” Clark assured him. “I have a thick skin.”

“Right,” Barry said. “Okay, I’ll see you next weekend. Let me know if I should bring anything.”

“Batman volunteered to cover the expenses,” Clark said.

He had done no such thing. Not that he wouldn’t, obviously, but _volunteered_ was more than a white lie.

“Okay, okay. Well, I’ll be off then.” A blur of light replaced Barry. A split-second later, his laughter rang out from one of the tunnels out. “ _Thick skin!_ Nice one.”

The booming sound of Barry’s departure echoed through the League’s headquarters, and Bruce relaxed just a little.

“That went… well,” Clark declared.

Bruce turned from the computer and scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Maybe if you would tell them who you are, we wouldn’t have these issues.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “You know I can’t.”

Diana crossed her arms and leaned against the computer screen, completely unconcerned about the pressure her shoulder was putting on the screen. “I expected you would say something today. You _have_ to tell them before the party.”

“I do not.”

Diana barked a laugh. “How not? Are you going to eat on the beach and play sport in your cowl, next to Hal in his _SUN’S OUT GUNS OUT_ tank top?”

Clark looked away, failing spectacularly to hide his own laughter.

“I have disguises,” Bruce said.

“Oh, come on,” Clark whined. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“You could just be _yourself_ ,” he countered. “So we can stop pretending like we aren’t together.”

“That’s why I can’t. It would make the team uncomfortable, cause problems we don’t need.”

Diana uncrossed her arms and draped one around Bruce’s shoulders. “It doesn’t make _me_ uncomfortable,” she said, bringing Clark in with her other arm. “And I will happily handle anyone who turns a good thing into a _problem_.”

“You’re just afraid people will see that Batman is human,” Clark shot out from under the protection of Diana’s wing.

Bruce tensed under the verbal blow. It hit far too close to home. “Not sure an _alien_ has any place to mock that.”

“No, no fighting,” Diana cooed. Her iron-muscled arms tightening around their necks contrasted jarringly with her sweet voice. “You love each other, and that is good. For you, Kal, to have another tie to humanity, and for you, Bruce, to remember your own. Love is a strength, not a weakness. No one will think less of you for it.”

“Easy for _you_ to say,” Bruce grumbled.

“Yes, because being a woman in Man’s World is _so_ easy.”

“Hn,” he conceded.

Clark no longer looked angry on the other side of Diana’s clutches. Instead he wore a weird mix of hurt and pity.

Bruce preferred anger.

“I’ll come as myself,” he decided. “But I’m _not_ telling them before.”

“Bruce, that’s asinine,” Clark snapped. So maybe there was a little anger, still.

“No, it is a good compromise,” Diana declared.

Clark looked unconvinced.

“It is _a_ compromise,” she amended, “and therefore good. And on the other side of all of this, we will be done with secrets in the League. And that will be _very_ good.”

“Okay,” said Clark. “Fine.”

“Done with secrets that aren’t about young Amazons, anyway,” Bruce muttered.

Diana stood up straighter. “An innocent child’s existence none of the League’s business. Now, I have to meet the President in twenty minutes, so I will leave you two to make amends. No more fighting.”

She kissed them each on the temple—first Clark, then Bruce—and released them, walking over to the teleporters and then waving goodbye as she dematerialized away.

Bruce turned back to the computer, typing in the necessary code to complete the update. “Are we still on for the lakehouse?”

Clark stepped closer, settling himself into Bruce’s peripheral vision. “Batman.”

“I know it’s a week away,” Bruce continued, “but I’ll need to make arrangements with Dinah and Alfred to keep watch over Gotham if I’m going to be out of town.”

“ _Bruce_.” Clark’s hand wrapped around Bruce’s glove, and the typing stopped. “I think this is a really good idea, telling them. But I don’t want you doing it for me.”

“I’m not,” said Bruce, finishing the command and pressing _enter_. He shifted to face Clark now. He _wasn’t_ doing this for Clark, was he? He sure as hell hoped not. No matter how much Clark meant to him. And yet… an obnoxiously believable voice in his head said, _Yes, yes you are._ “I’m doing it for the team.”

“You can’t take it back once you do.”

“You think I don’t _know_ that?” he snapped.

Clark sighed and let go of his wrist. “I just don’t want you resenting me. If… you regret it later.”

“Diana says they’re all trustworthy, so I shouldn’t need to regret it.”

“She… does. Yes. They are.”

Bruce took a deep breath and sighed. “Sometimes I wonder. About Harvey.”

Clark tensed, ever so slightly, but he said nothing.

“Maybe he would’ve taken a different path, if I’d brought him in. Trusted him.”

“You can’t—”

“Or maybe it all would’ve happened the same way, but with a dangerous madman holding the most damning information on me possible.”

Clark’s eyes fell. There was nothing to say. And Bruce knew that. He had told himself all the possible responses, and none of them made him feel any better.

Bruce furrowed his brow under the cowl. “We’ve only worked with some of these people for a _year_.”

“But they’re _good people_ ,” Clark said, looking up again. “You trust Diana, and Diana trusts them. They’re not… _him_.”

Bruce swallowed back the bitterness of the memories and looked down at the keyboard. “I _hope_ not. But it’s a lot to risk on hope.”

“Sometimes, hope’s all we’ve got.”

“You _would_ say that.”

“‘Cause it’s true.”

Bruce looked over to see Clark smiling, that stupidly warm smile of his that made his inhumanly blue eyes squint to slits. And hell if it didn’t make Bruce fall for him all over again.

He found himself leaning forward, and then he was wrapping his fingers around Clark’s wrist that rested on the desk, and Clark’s eyes closed.

And Bruce dropped his hand and turned around, making for the exit.

Clark appeared in front of him. “Hey! What’re you doing?”

“Leaving. Before I do something I’d regret.”

“Regret?”

Bruce passed around Clark, waving to the nooks in the cave walls and saying, “There’s footage of everything here.”

“You know you’re the only one who reviews that footage!” Clark shouted after him.

Bruce turned just before stepping into the teleporter. If he were really going through with this, sharing his identity with the League, he’d need to get to work finalizing contingency plans to defend against each of them. And he’d promised Dick extra training before school started back up. He couldn’t linger in Rhode Island.

“You’re… welcome to come over,” he said.

“Yeah? I—” Clark looked down at his boots. “I wish I could. But I should probably get back before Perry roasts me over a pit for being out any longer.”

“Of course. Then I’ll see you Saturday,” he said. And then he stepped in, and the League headquarters vanished.

 

* * *

 

Bruce had, it seemed, vastly underestimated the intelligence of the Justice League. He showed up, as promised, as himself, with Dick.

At first, with Diana and Clark, it was fine. J’onn arrived next, to help with security, and he was nonplussed about it. Then again, he was about most things. Dinah though, didn’t conceal her disapproval.

“Oh. Bruce Wayne,” said Dinah, stiffening as she shook his hand. “Okay. I guess.”

And then she swiftly pulled Diana aside for a conversation. Barry was equally put off, but his Midwestern charm covered it a little more, limiting his reaction to a quizzical double-take, but thankfully Wally just held out his hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Mister Wayne,” and then Dick said, “So, uh, Wally—wanna check out my new phone?” and the boys ran off.

“Your kid seems great,” Barry said.  "Friendly."

“Yeah,” said Bruce. “He is.”

“You adopted him, right?”

“Not quite. Basically. It’s complicated.”

“I hear that. Wally’s technically just my nephew—or he will be. He’s my fiancée’s nephew. But he stays with us for the summers.  My fiancée's more like a mom to him than his own.”

“Right,” said Bruce, blinking in astonishment. Barry had _no_ idea. Bruce gestured past them to the table of food and drinks. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna grab a drink or two.”

“Oh, sure,” said Barry, nodding along and then scurrying off to Diana.

At the drink table, Bruce mixed himself a weak bourbon lemonade, though perhaps not quite as weak as his usual. This whole affair was shaping up to be quite something. And even better, from the shadows of the awning, he could hear Hal, Dinah, and Clark talking about him.

Bruce inched further into the shadows and tuned his ear to listen.

“Did y’all get to say hi to Bruce?” Clark was asking.

“I did,” said Dinah. “I didn’t realize he was invited.”

“You brought your boyfriend?” Hal scoffed. To his credit, his tank top had a U.S. Air Force logo rather than a rhyming slogan as Diana had guessed. “I thought we weren’t doing dates.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Dinah looked down, and her blonde waves fell across her face. “I would’ve brought Ollie and Roy, if I’d’ve _known_.”

Hal crossed his arms and side-eyed Clark. “Exactly. At least Ollie’s a _hero_ , if a bit self-righteous.”

Dinah shot Hal a scalding look.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Hal dared.

She didn’t, and their overall frustration remained a united front against Clark.

Clark opened and closed his mouth, like a dumb fish beyond even Arthur’s reach. “I. Um.”

“This is so _you_ ,” said Hal.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Hal shrugged and then stood taller, straightening his shoulders. “It means what it _means_.”

_God_ , he was an idiot. Dick, perched in a tree above them, had whipped out a phone and was clearly recording the confrontation. As if Bruce needed another headache right now.

“The rules don’t apply to you, do they? Well, I don’t care what planet you’re from, we’re all—”

Barry appeared, suddenly with a hand on Hal’s elbow. He had some kind of impressive _Hal is being an idiot_ detector—and thankfully so. Hal wouldn’t be tolerable without Barry’s interventions.

“Hal, back off,” Barry warned. “Though I gotta say, Supes, it’s pretty low to call this a team-building thing and then show up with your personal guests. I don’t mind Bruce being here—that’s fine, really, if you’re, uh, sure we can all trust him, which…” Barry furrowed his brow. “You know, _yeah_. Uncool. I still haven’t even told Iris—so now _your boyfriend_ gets to know that I’m the Flash before _my own fiancee_?”

“Seriously, Barry?” Hal’s eyebrows shot up high. “You _still_ haven’t told her?”

“That’s not the point!” Barry snapped. “We should’ve had the say on whether Bruce knows our identities.”

Clark removed his glasses, playing with the frames in his hands, folding them open and closed, open and closed. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. But I didn’t say who you all _were_. Just friends.”

Hal hadn’t backed off, and his chin jutted out even further. “Does he know who _you_ are? Because it doesn’t take a genius to look at the group of us and put the pieces together.”

Bruce stifled a laugh. It didn’t take a genius, but then, none of them had even suggested the possibility that maybe Clark hadn’t brought a civilian guest at all.

“Well,” Barry said, back in his mediating tone, “to be fair, Hal, Bruce Wayne is… uh… _far_ from a genius.”

Bruce chose that moment to step out of the shadows, swirling his lemonade like a glass of fine wine. “You know, I may not be a _genius_ , but I do have two Ivy League degrees.”

Barry nearly jumped out of his shoes. Dinah went immediately into a defensive stance at the surprise, and Hal wheeled back.

“Where’d _you_ come from?” Hal demanded.

“The, uh, drink table.” Bruce pointed behind him and knocked back the plastic cup, letting the ice clink against his mouth. “I guess I’ll need another soon. But listen, gentlemen—and Miss Lance—I’d not here to expose you. I know Clark. I know how important the… secrecy aspect is. I wouldn’t compromise him, and I wouldn’t compromise you.”

“Until he breaks your heart,” Hal argued.

“Sorry?”

Clark stepped forward. “I’m _not_ going to break his heart.”

A smile burst onto Barry’s face. “That’s _so_ sweet. Hal, you can’t believe _Superman_ would break anyone’s heart.”

“I don’t know,” Dinah said, jumping back in. “He kind of broke Lois Lane’s heart.”

“The reporter?”

“Mmhmm.”

Clark shook his head and raised a finger. “Ah, no. That was—”

“She broke his,” Bruce supplied. “Miss Lane wants Superman. Not Clark Kent.”

“Ouch,” said Barry.

“She did _not_ break my heart,” Clark clarified. “And I didn’t break hers. And I’m not going to break Bruce’s. So if you would all _kindly_ lay off our guest—who is, by the way, paying for all the food today—I’d _really_ appreciate it.”

“Wait,” said Barry, “ _you_ got us this food?”

Bruce shrugged.

“Okay, wow. Thank you. That’s very generous. Isn’t it, Hal?”

Hal scrunched his face, but then he looked over at the food spread and shrugged. “I guess.”

“Don’t listen to Hal,” Barry assured. “You’re welcome here.”

“I thought _Batman_ was getting the food,” Dinah noted.

Hal scowled and turned back at her. “Yeah, well, clearly Bats is too good for us, and Clark’s covering his ass by getting his sugar daddy to make up the loss.” He looked back at Bruce. “Am I wrong?”

Bruce laughed, this time not holding it back. “Not entirely, no. Though if the Batman didn’t show, I’m sure he had a good reason.

“You’re _sure_?”

“Batman’s saved Mister Wayne’s life,” Dinah jumped into explain. “On a few occasions. I saw it, once on TV, back when my mother was in the vigilante business.”

Bruce nodded. “I owe him everything. And from what I hear from Clark, the world owes a lot to all of you. So covering refreshments is really the least I can do.”

“That’s _really_ generous of you, Mister Wayne,” said Barry.

“Please, call me Bruce.” Bruce reached out a hand to shake Barry’s. Hal rolled his eyes, and Bruce turned to him next. “I didn’t mean to offend—”

“It’s fine,” said Hal, shaking his head. “ _You’re_ not the one who didn’t anything wrong. I—uh—shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Wow, look at that,” Barry teased. “That was _almost_ a genuine apology. Those are rare, Bruce.”

“Shut it, Bar.”

“Make me.”

Hal shot out an arm to hook around Barry’s neck, but the speedster evaded him easily, laughing out a taunt like a third-grader teasing a schoolyard crush instead of professionals in their mid-twenties. Their lives were stressful enough, though—it was hard to blame them for being a little childish in letting off steam.

Hard, but Bruce could find a way.

Dinah could too, it seemed, as she rolled her eyes and looked down at her empty plate. “Well, Mister Wayne, I’m going to get more of your food. But Barry’s right—our issue wasn’t with _you_.” 

She shot a final glare at Clark and then peeled away. This was going all wrong.

Clark’s shoulders fell with a massive sigh.

“Clark,” Bruce said, leaning in a few inches. “You know I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

“No plan for _this_ , of all things? Or was letting me take the fall the plan?”

Bruce’s mouth opened and closed, for once unable to find a good answer. He’d anticipated the possibility that some of them might not immediately understand, but the hostility had thrown him off.

“It’s fine, Bruce. I’ll go smooth things over with the others until you figure out how you want to handle this.”

Bruce nodded. “Good luck,” he said. “I’ll grab some more lemonade.”

He didn’t need to, though, because just as Clark turned away, a cup appeared in front of him, held by a slender hand with dangling bracelets engraved with ancient lettering.

“Tell me,” ordered Diana, “how _are_ things with Kal-El?”

Bruce smiled. “Good. Really good, actually.”

“And yet, you are letting him take the blame for your actions. Is that how you treat a loved one?”

The smile faded. “It was _his_ idea, me coming as myself.”

“You know, Bruce,” said Diana, “none of this would be happening if you just—”

“I know,” Bruce interrupted. “I was _going_ to tell them.”

“Were you?”

Bruce nodded and gestured at his pressed linen shirt and chinos. “ _Obviously_. I would have as soon as it was clear that they didn’t understood, but they didn’t even give me a window. Too busy wrapped up in their own petty drama. They’re _children_.”

“You’re _all_ children,” Diana said, squeezing his shoulder. “They’re being dramatic, but you created the drama.”

“Hrn.”

“You _and_ Kal. And now when you tell them, they’re going to be embarrassed.”

“They _should_ be.”

“Bruce, you don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “None of them seem to have _any_ clue—which I wouldn’t ordinarily mind, but they really think Batman is missing and I’m here instead? Maybe Dinah has a hunch, but she saw Batman rescue me, so… at least she has an excuse.”

“ _You’re_ the detective,” Diana argued. “Most people believe what they want to believe. With what fits their assumptions. And you’ve done a very good job of convincing the world that Bruce Wayne could never be anything more than a handsome millionaire.”

“Billionaire, actually. Though at my spending rate, who knows how long that’ll last.”

Diana laughed. “Regardless.”

“Fine.” Bruce turned in to her, looking up with a devious smile. “We’ll make it easier.”

“Easier?”

“I’ll give them clues. Feel free to join.”

“Clues?”

“Actual _evidence_ ,” Bruce clarified. That was how he trained Dick. If it worked for him, it would work for the League. “Facts. No wordplay, no puns, no direct hints.”

“Who already knows? Me, Clark, Dick… J’onn, surely.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know about J’onn. I have to assume, but he’s never given any indication.”

“Interesting. So that leaves… possibly J’onn, and then Hal, Barry, Arthur, and Dinah. And Wally.”

“Wally knows.”

Diana’s eyes popped. “ _Wally_ knows?”

“Yes, but Barry isn’t aware. Dick needed someone to confide in.”

That brought a smile to Diana’s face, and her gaze flickered up to the tree where the boys were hiding out, Wally whittling something out of a broken-off branch while Dick hung upside down from a higher bough, acting like they hadn’t been recording Hal’s hissy-fit on Dick’s phone five minutes earlier.

“That _is_ good.”

“So. What’s your bet? How long will it take them? And who will be last?”

“I don’t think betting on our teammates is in the spirit of this event. We’re meant to be building unity, not undermining it.”

“But—”

“If you must… _give clues_ , I won’t stop you. At least that would feel like a training exercise and not an insulting joke or game. But _I_ would prefer you be honest. We came here together to forge fellowship and camaraderie. To better trust the person who may be standing at your side next time you face down Death and Chaos. To sow harmony, not discord. What you do with that is your choice, but I should hope that as one of this team’s leaders, you at least keep that in mind.”

Bruce looked down at the stitching on his leather shoes and sighed. Diana’s words somehow always managed to cut him to the quick. Maybe it was one of her powers, or her charisma. Maybe it was just his own personal mother complex that triggered Bruce’s guilt whenever she pulled that card. _What you do is your choice, but I will be very disappointed if you choose poorly_.

Bruce held himself to plenty of high standards, but they weren’t the _right_ standards in Diana’s book. Honesty. Teamwork.

And worst of all, she was right. She usually was.

It was infuriating.

“Fine,” he said, sufficiently guilted. “I’ll tell them.”

Diana turned, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow in question.

“But—one at a time. No big announcement.”

“That sounds wise.”

“And I’m telling Hal last.”

Diana smiled. “As is only just, given his lack of hospitality.”

“Exactly.” Bruce sighed and looked around at the guests. Clark was talking to J’onn and Arthur now; Barry was kicking Hal’s constructs with his yellow sneakers; and Dinah, now with her second helping of food, was crossing over to Diana and Bruce.

“Shall I leave you to it?” Diana asked, nodding in Dinah’s direction.

“Hey, Diana!” Dinah held out her plate. “Want some shrimp?”

“If you insist,” Diana said, flipping back her long black hair and plucking one from Dinah’s plate.

“Courtesy of Mister Wayne,” Dinah explained.

“It’s Bruce, really.”

Dinah pierced him with a scathing glare. “I know your _game_ , Mister Wayne. We all do.”

“I’m not—” Bruce caught himself from sputtering up his lemonade. “Miss Lance, I’m _not_ hitting on you.”

He looked over to Diana with pleading eyes, but she just shrugged. 

“You _do_ have a reputation.”

_Great_. He shook his head. “I’m not everything the papers say. And, beautiful as you may be,” he said—and she was, even in the outdated jean shorts and oversized band t-shirt she’d thrown on—“I’m dating _Clark_.”

“Yeah, you’re spoken for. And _I’m_ dating Ollie Queen,” Dinah noted.

“My condolences,” Bruce said, cracking a smile.

Dinah hesitated for a second, as if deciding whether to be offended or amused. The latter won out, and she laughed, clear and piercing.

“You should’ve brought Ollie,” Bruce said. “I’d like to see him again.”

“He’s not in the _League_ ,” Dinah explained, her eyes narrowing. “I wasn’t sure he’d be… welcome.”

“Well, I understand _that_.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Diana said, “I should make sure the boys don’t hurt themselves.”

“Dick is fine,” Bruce objected. “I just checked.”

Diana laughed. “Oh, I didn’t mean those boys.” She waved towards Hal and Barry, whose fun seemed to have turned into an actual dispute of some kind.

“Ah,” said Bruce. “That’s… not a bad idea.”

Diana bowed out, and Dinah eyed Bruce warily.

“We could call him,” said Bruce. “Ollie. He could come now.”

Dinah laughed. “We’re a five-hour plane ride from Star City, _Bruce_.”

“Oh come on, Ollie doesn’t have anything faster than a commercial jet?”

“I should _hope_ not. Why would he need that?”

Bruce shrugged. “Arrow business, I’d think.”

Dinah took a step back, her eyes narrowed to long-lashed slits now. “What are you _saying_ , Mister Wayne?”

Bruce held his hands out. “Come on, Miss Lance. I _know_ Ollie—like I know Lex. The press junkets we were roped into… _young blood, whippersnapper CEOs_ , all that. You learn a lot about a person. _None_ of us are quite what we seem.”

“Aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. She looked Bruce up and down, and then stepped closer. “What _exactly_ are you trying to say?”

“I wouldn’t call Ollie a _copycat_ , because he didn’t know what he was copying. But he wasn’t the _first_ heir to a family fortune to use that privilege to fund a vigilante career.”

“You? Very funny, Mister Wayne.”

“I don’t really _joke_ about these things, Dinah.”

Dinah shook her head, unable to reconcile the obvious from the facts she already thought she knew. “But you—I’ve _seen_ Batman. And you. In the same place.”

Bruce nodded over to Clark. “I’m sure you saw _someone_ in the batsuit.”

Dinah looked between Clark and Bruce and back again. “Why not tell us earlier?”

“Why isn’t Ollie in the League?”

“Uh, because he thinks he’s a rebel?”

Bruce laughed. “The actual reason.”

“Because you didn’t invite him?”

“We… did, actually.” Bruce gritted his teeth.

“But I thought…” Dinah put the pieces together, her face hardening. “Was I your _second_ _choice_?”

“Not mine,” said Bruce. He’d been quite firm on the matter, but he and Diana had been outvoted. Barry had said some nonsense about a _family-friendly image_ and Diana had shot back with claims of chauvinism, which only set the other men on the defensive. It hadn’t been their finest moment as a team. “It was… a close vote.”

“Well, that’s _something_ ,” she huffed.

“Ollie didn’t join because the public nature of the League combined with the public nature of his life is a recipe for blowing his identity.”

“Who else knows? Clark and Diana, I assume?”

Bruce nodded. His eyes flitted over to the two of them, who were rather conspicuously eavesdropping. They looked… proud. Not that he was doing this for them. He was doing it for the team.

“I’m telling the others, so I’d appreciate it if—”

“Got it,” said Dinah, holding up a hand. “I’m… glad you came to me first.”

Bruce shrugged. “You’re from Gotham.”

“Ha!” Dinah nodded behind Bruce’s shoulder, and he turned to see Barry heading in a b-line for them. “Looks like Barry’s next on your list.”

Bruce scrunched his nose. Barry had not, in fact, been next on his list.

But now he was here, touching a hand to Bruce’s shoulder and saying, “Um, Mister Wayne—Bruce—I was wondering if I could have a word.”

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. What the hell kind of _word_ did Barry Allen need to have with Bruce Wayne, of all people?

“Of course,” he said. “Excuse us, Dinah.”

Barry led them further from the tables, to a spot under a big oak tree. He paced back and forth, ran a hand through his hair, and then turned to face Bruce. “When did—um, when did Clark tell you? About being… you know.”

“Superman.”

Barry nodded. “How did you take it?”

Bruce grimaced, knowing his answer wasn’t going to be what Barry was looking for. “I knew before we were together.”

“ _What_?”

“Yeah,” Bruce laughed. “He… was interviewing me, and dug up a particularly sensitive secret. So he told me his. To make it fair, I guess. An assurance that he wouldn’t go public.”

“Oh.” Barry shook his head and sighed. “Wow, okay.”

“This isn’t about me, is it?”

“No,” Barry admitted. “Well, it is, in a way. It’s about… people dating people like me. And Clark.”

“People with powers.”

Barry squinted. “I was going to say superheroes, but yeah, sure. What’s that like? _Knowing_.”

“I don’t have a point of comparison,” Bruce reminded him. But he didn’t need one for Clark to be able to answer Barry’s actual question. He had tried dating as Bruce Wayne, hiding who he really was, and it had never ended well. “But if I didn’t know he was _Superman_ , I would know there was _something_ hidden. Sudden cancellations, preoccupations, associates he would refuse to talk about. I don’t think I could trust him.”

“Oh.” Barry nodded, slowly, his eyebrows furrowing into thought and then raising in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I guess not. But Iris—my fiancée— _she_ trusts me. I… I think.”

“Then maybe you should trust _her_.”

Barry chewed his lip. “Right. I just… worry. I don’t want to put her in danger, you know?”

“Which is why you have a secret identity.”

“Yeah.” Barry nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Listen, I like to keep my secrets secret. I get that. But… if you’re going to _marry_ this girl, well, she has a right to know.”

“What if she leaves me?”

Bruce shrugged. “Shouldn’t she be given that choice? The way I see it, if you don’t think she’d say yes, then you should call the whole thing off. And if you _do_ think she would, then you have to let her sign up this life herself. You can’t trick her into it.”

“I was never _tricking_ her.”

Bruce said nothing. He raised an eyebrow.

Barry’s face fell. “But… How do I tell her something like that?”

“Take her somewhere nice. You’re in Central City? Go to Le Printemps _._ That’s the best place you have in that city. _”_

“I can’t get reservations to Le Printemps.”

Bruce flipped out his phone and found the number of Marcel Etienne, the restauranteur who ran not only the place in question, but a few of the finest dining destinations in Gotham and Metropolis as well.

Marcel picked up, and Bruce laid on his thickest _Brucie_ voice.

“Marcel? It’s Bruce—I have a friend that needs a reservation for two to Le Printemps in Central. A private table.”

_“Oh, Monsieur Wayne, of course. We can accommodate that. What day do you have in mind?”_

“Anytime tonight would be fine.”

_“Oh_.” A pause. _“I see. Well, I will give the restaurant a call, right away. Let’s say seven?”_

“That’s great, Marcel. I _really_ appreciate it.”

_“Likewise, Monsieur.”_

Bruce flipped his phone back shut. “Seven o’clock, tonight,” he told Barry. “Make sure she’s free.”

Barry’s mouth hung slack. “Um. I… am really grateful, honestly, but… I can’t afford that place. You should call back. Tell him to cancel.”

Bruce pulled out his billfold and handed a crisp hundred over.

“I didn’t mean—You don’t need to cover my date.”

“That won’t _cover_ it,” Bruce laughed. “But it’ll help make up the difference.”

“Oh.” Barry held the bill, warily eyeing it and then Bruce before sliding it into his pocket. “Okay. How do I do this?”

“Quietly. Publicly. So she can’t make a loud reaction. Have a nice first course, use the second to remind her why you love her and why she’s agreed to marry you. And then just lean across the table and whisper in her ear,” he said, leaning forward himself to demonstrate, “ _I’m Batman_.”

“I’m not—” Barry jerked back, his eyes widening in realization. “Oh, _shit_.”

“Hh,” Bruce grunted, almost a laugh.

“You _are_!” Barry covered his mouth and took a deep breath. “ _You’re_ B—”

“Shhh,” Bruce said, holding a finger to his own lips. “Don’t tell anyone, yet,” he warned, his voice low. “Let me.”

“I won’t—but—”

“Don’t tell Hal.”

Barry scrunched his nose. “I already said I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Hn.”

“He’s gonna have a field day with this.”

“That’s why I haven’t told him.”

“If you _want_ ,” Barry said, biting his lip and glancing over at Hal “I could tell him _for_ you. Get him to lay off.”

“No.”

Barry raised his hands in a surrender. “Okay, just offering. Since you, uh, are apparently my marriage counselor now. Which is weird.”

“You came to _me_ ,” Bruce noted.

“Yeah, I did. That’s true.” Barry’s eyes widened, as if in shock at his own actions. And then he stood up, alert with a realization. “So that means Dick is—”

“Yes.”

“So _that’s_ why Wally ran off so quickly. But he… didn’t seem surprised at all.” Barry turned back to Bruce with a semi-accusatory glare.

Bruce shrugged. He didn’t need to explain Dick’s choices—or his own—to Barry. But then, he was _trying_ to be more transparent. So he said, “They’ve become good friends, since the Kents’.”

“Uh _huh_.” Barry looked over to the boys, who had come down from the tree and were now stuffing themselves with food. Dick caught Barry’s eye and nudged Wally, and the two of them started coming over.

“What’s up, Barry-o?” Wally said as he sauntered over at an impressively leisurely pace. Granted, he was balancing a precarious set of three paper plates, all brimming with barbecue and potato salad and shrimp.

Barry swiped a piece of shrimp and then answered, “Bruce and I were just talking about how close you and _Robin_ are.”

Dick stiffened next to Bruce, and he looked over to give a small nod: _all clear_. Dick’s eyebrows pressed together, and Bruce repeated the gesture.

“I _know_ ,” Barry assured them both.

“Right,” said Dick, loosening up and smiling.

“Sorry, Uncle Barry—I promised not to tell _anyone_ ,” Wally began explaining, but Barry stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right, Wally. I understand.”

Wally’s shoulders relaxed, and he exchanged some kind of silent commentary with Dick.

Bruce couldn’t say he entirely understood the appeal of Wally West as best friend material, but Dick seemed happy, and that meant Bruce was happy.

Maybe it was time to re-approach the idea of visiting Ollie and meeting Roy Harper, though. Dick had put it off, probably just to humor Bruce, but social connections were important for him in a way that they’d never been for Bruce. Or maybe they had been for Bruce, but he’d been so hardened by everything that he hadn’t been open to them. Maybe his lack of lasting childhood friendships was part of the problem.

It was definitely time to visit Ollie and Roy. And Dinah. It would be easier now, with Bruce’s secret shared.

And at the end of the day, maybe that would make it worth it. Appeasing Clark and Diana, building team cohesion, those were worthwhile. But if it helped Dick, he couldn’t regret it. Not really.

“Maybe you two should come to Gotham sometime,” Bruce said. The words sounded like they’d come from another voice, like he was standing outside his body watching himself actually invite Barry fucking Allen and his teenage tornado of an almost-nephew to his city. To his _home_.

Barry must have had the same thought, because he cocked his head and said, “You’re serious?”

Dick stared up in disbelief.

Bruce shrugged.

“Okay,” said Barry. “I mean, yeah. If you mean it.”

“Have you told everyone, or just Barry?” Dick asked.

“I’m working on it,” Bruce said, cutting his eyes over to where Arthur and J’onn stood chatting. Hal and Dinah were dancing to whatever terrible music Clark had chosen for the party playlist. Hall and Oates. Bruce wrinkled his nose.

Dick patted Bruce’s arm in an obnoxiously patronizing gesture. “Good luck, buddy. Want me to do it?”

“ _No_ ,” said Bruce, shooting a fierce glare that made Dick’s hand jump off his arm.

“O- _kay_ , B. Just trying to help.”

“If you want to help, delete the video you took of Hal and Clark. Data like that isn’t secure.”

“Only if you go tell him.”

“Delete it.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but he pulled out his phone and obligingly did as instructed. “Deleted. Happy?”

“Hn.”

His eyes fell on Hal, who had apparently finished his dance and was now approaching.

“I’m going to speak with Arthur,” Bruce said, peeling away after giving a final warning of “Don’t say _anything_.”

J’onn’s eyes met Bruce’s as he approached, and Bruce filled his mind with one thought and directed it right at J’onn: _Do you know who I am_?

And J’onn’s answer came back, clear and resonant in his mind: _You are Bruce Wayne. You are also Batman. I did not mean to intrude in discovering—but you have been broadcasting loudly throughout this event, and—”_

“John, Arthur,” Bruce called out. “Sorry I wasn’t able to give a proper hello earlier.”

Arthur shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“I meant to say when I arrived—I’m not just here as Clark’s date.”

The two of them looked at each other and then back at Bruce.

“ _I’m_ Batman,” he clarified.

“Yeah.” Arthur nodded. “I figured.”

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. He had expected J’onn to know, but Arthur?

“Sorry—but we _were_ expecting ten guests,” Arthur explained. “Ten came. We’re missing a tall man and a teenage boy—and I’m supposed to think a tall man and a teenage boy _crashed_ the party? Was I not _supposed_ to figure that out?”

A relieved little sigh escaped Bruce’s mouth. “You were. But you didn’t say anything.”

Arthur leaned to the side, looking over at the other League members and then back at Bruce. “Yeah, well. They were making a scene. And you didn’t contradict them. I figured you had your reasons.”

Bruce gave a nod of approval.

“I assume you just told Barry?”

“Yes.”

Arthur made a small humming sound in the back of his throat. “And Dinah?”

“I told her.”

“Not Hal?”

Bruce shook his head.

Arthur shrugged. “Can’t blame you. But if Barry knows, you have about ten minutes before Hal does too.”

That was true enough, even with Barry’s assurances. How he’d been able to keep his identity secret from Iris for so long was downright baffling.

“Thank you for the advice,” Bruce clipped, but then he forced himself to soften slightly. “I’ll tell him soon,” he added. 

“Before the game?” J’onn asked.

Bruce squinted. “Maybe.”

“When is that happening?” asked Arthur, looking at his watch. “This is great and all, but I really shouldn’t stay much longer.”

“I’ll go check with Clark and Diana,” Bruce said. “Excuse me.”

As soon as he stepped within Diana’s armspan, he found himself pulled into a tight hug.

“I’m very proud of you,” she whispered, squeezing him a little harder than necessary.

He answered with a strangled grumble, and she released him, only for Clark to take his hand and give a barely perceptible tug that sent Bruce flying into his arms.

“Don’t manhandle me,” Bruce warned, his voice low. The words dashed Clark’s grin. “Not in front of the team.”

“So it’s okay for Diana, but not me?”

“I’m not dating Diana,” said Bruce, pressing his lips to Clark’s jawbone.

A stupid smile broke back across Clark’s face, and he let go. “Okay. Deal.”

“We should start the game soon,” Bruce said. “Arthur’s getting impatient.”

“You told him?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “You _know_ I did.”

“He does,” Diana affirmed. “So. Everyone but Hal. Time you tell him, too.”

As if on cue, Hal’s voice rang out, shouting: “Are we gonna play ball or what?”

Bruce tilted his head and blinked at Diana, who sighed.

“He is a good man,” she reminded him. “A man of courage. A hero.”

“He’s an asshole,” Bruce countered.

“So are you,” Diana said, patting his shoulder. “But we love you anyway.”

Clark gave a reluctant shrug and sly smile. “She’s not _wrong_.”

“Just start the game, Clark.”

“All righty then.” Clark took two steps ahead of Bruce and Diana and called out to the crowd in a booming voice: “Gather in, everyone!”

The other five did as he said, waiting for further instructions in varying degrees of impatience.

“Okay! The thought was just a little game—nothing serious, nothing competitive. Just a way to have fun, build some team spirit, work together in a different kind of way. We only have five to a team, so, uh, that’ll be a pitcher, catcher, and the three basemen, or, uh, however you want to do it, I guess. Remember, we are in civilian clothes, so, uh, keep powers to a minimum. They aren’t off-limits, but… our identities matter more than winning a game.”

There was a little grumbling over that, but Clark pressed on.

“I’ll captain one team—Bruce’ll take the other.”

Everyone nodded, except Hal, who looked like he’d been served a plate of raw pig intestines. “Shouldn’t Diana captain?”

Diana shook her head. “It should be Bruce.”

Hal scrunched his nose, but Barry elbowed him. “Just go with it, man,” he said. “Um. Hospitality.”

“O…kay.” Hal’s eyes narrowed, more in thought than annoyance this time. Maybe there was something in that hard head of his. “Who’s on what team?”

“I thought we’d just… call names. Like in school.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “In school?”

“You know, like in gym. For games. For… kickball or whatever.”

“Sheesh, Supes,” laughed Barry. “How’d you ever convince us that you didn’t grow up on Earth?”

“He’s a good actor,” Bruce answered, glancing over at Clark.

“Not the _only_ one,” Barry muttered.

“Excuse me?”

Barry blanched. “Nothing,” he said, his voice small. Hal’s face contorted more, and his mouth opened to say something, but Clark prevented it by starting the team selections.

“I call Barry!” he shouted.

Barry perked up. “ _Nice_.”

Bruce shrugged and nodded to Wally. “Wally’s with me, then,” he said.

Wally dashed over to Bruce in a blur. “Heyy, awesome, Mister Wayne!”

Bruce smiled at Wally, but Dick’s sour reaction stole his attention.

“ _Seriously_?” Dick whined. “You choose someone else over your own child? Your own _flesh and blood_?”

Arthur cleared his throat next to Dick. “Aren’t you _adopted_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Dick said, waving a dismissive hand at the King of Atlantis. “Not the point.”

Arthur furrowed his brow in skeptical confusion, as Bruce explained, “I can’t let Clark have _both_ Speedsters.”

“Fair,” said Dick, earning a side-eye from Hal that seemed to say, _What kind of dad doesn’t pick his own kid?_

Clark pointed to Dick now. “You’re with _me_.”

Dick shot a triumphant and somewhat vengeful grin at Bruce and then bounded over to Clark. “Red and Blue!”

“Blue and Red,” Clark corrected with a laugh, offering his hand for some elaborate handshake that Bruce hadn’t seen before. High five, low five, middle and back-hand, shake, slide, and exploding fist bump. Bruce’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t jealousy. It was confusion at when they had developed this absent of him. Maybe that time that Bruce had been on medical rest and Dick had assisted Clark in helping Superman without him.

Definitely not jealousy.

“Green Lantern Hal Jordan,” Bruce said.

Hal pointed in surprise at his own chest and then sauntered over while Bruce continued to watch Clark and Dick telling some terrible joke to Barry. At least he assumed it was terrible, given Barry’s sense of humor. All of their senses of humor.

“You don’t have to say the whole title and whole name,” Hal was saying. “I mean, it’s formal. Hal’s fine. Or Jordan. It’s _Jordan_ most of the time, actually.”

Bruce struck Hal with a glare, and Hal shut up.

For a second, anyway. He then leaned in and said, “Listen, I’m flattered you picked me, but you know Diana’s the powerhouse—”

“We’ll get Diana.”

“Why wouldn’t—”

Bruce lowered his voice. “When I suggested a baseball game, Diana asked where we’d put the goalposts.”

“ _Oh,_ yeah, okay.” And then Hal looked over at Clark and his team and back at Bruce. “You… _you’re_ Batman, _aren’t_ you?”

Finally. Bruce answered with the slightest of nods. “What clued you in?”

“Uh, when you told Barry, actually.”

“He wasn’t supposed to—”

Hal shook his head. “He didn’t say anything. But he started giving you a ten-foot berth, and all he could say was that you got him fancy reservations, so that didn’t explain it.”

Clark called out Dinah’s name, and Bruce called for Diana.

She came over with a bright smile. “You chose me!”

“Of course.”

She leaned down to kissed his cheekbone. “Clark didn’t,” she said, slightly miffed. “He thinks I don’t understand the game.”

Bruce grimaced.

“I had Steve explain the whole thing to me, Bruce. I won’t be a liability.”

“Never thought you would be,” Bruce lied, and then nodded toward Hal. “He figured it out.”

“Oh, _good_! How?”

“Barry’s afraid of me.”

“Well,” Hal said, “not just that. The _Red and Blue_ thing—I mean, why would Dick be _Red_? And It makes sense that you could afford all the fighter jets you go through. Lots of little things. It’s the simplest explanation, really.”

“Hn. See, I knew you couldn’t be as stupid as you look.”

“Uh, thanks? You know, I _am_ a member of an intergalactic police force. I’m not a _fool_.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Arthur, over here!” Clark called, leaving J’onn to Bruce. They’d agreed from the start that the Atlantean and Martian should be the last picked. They were mature. No need to manage hurt feelings.

“All right,” said Bruce, his small team now gathered. “Clark is going to say that this is just for fun, but don’t let him fool you. He’ll try to win. Which means we’re bringing our full game.”

“I never bring less,” boasted Diana, and no one doubted it.

“J’onn, if we put you on the pitcher’s mound, they’re going to whine. So I want you on second. But you keep a link open to the team. No one steals. No one bunts. No one surprises us.”

“Is that… permitted?” he asked.

“Everything’s _permitted_ ,” Bruce said, waving a hand. “Hal, take first. You have a good eye. Wally, third. Watch for fouls and grounders and catch them if you can. Diana, you’re pitching.”

“And you’re catcher?” Diana asked. “What if you get hit?”

Bruce shrugged. “No pain, no victory.”

Hal gave a nod of approval.

“Just follow my instructions. I’ll keep my eye on the field.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Everyone understand?”

They nodded.

“Yeah,” said Hal. “Okay, one thing though.”

Bruce sighed. “What?”

“If we all know Bruce Wayne is Batman… how is _no one_ talking about the fact that _Superman_ is boning _Batman_?”

Wally tried to stop laughter that turned into an undignified snort, and Bruce shot Hal with a piercing glare.

“Because anyone who does is going to wake up in the ICU.”

“Wasn’t meant to be an insult,” Hal huffed, before muttering, “Apparently it’s the other way around.”

Diana’s arm was around Bruce’s shoulders before he could lash out at Hal, and then Hal slipped back, out of Bruce’s reach.

“Maybe we should do a cheer,” she suggested. “Huddle up.”

Hal had been right. She should’ve been captain, knowledge of the game or not.

“Now, what do we say?” she asked.

Or maybe not.

“No pain, no victory,” Hal echoed. It was almost like an olive branch.

“At school we always say, _One-two-three-Vic-tor-y_ ,” Wally offered.

“I _like_ it,” said Diana.

Bruce shrugged. “That’ll do. All right, Wally. Lead it.”

“Me?” Wally looked to Hal and Diana on either side of him, not wanting to overstep his bounds.

“You.”

“Oh. Okay.” Wally put his hand in and everyone else followed, Bruce last. Wally hesitated, looking back up at Bruce, who nodded. “One, two, three—”

“ _VICTORY!_ ”

The team split up, heading for their defensive positions, though Hal lingered.

“So,” said Hal. “We’re gonna bring down your Boy Scout boyfriend?”

“We better.”

Hal started walking backwards toward first base, winking and shooting finger guns as he retreated. “That’s the spirit, Bruce-man.”

**Author's Note:**

> It took like all of my willpower plus some to not have Bruce pull a [Captain Holt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mU7IUprPqag) at the end. BOOOOOONNNE??????


End file.
